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Hoare, John Matthew Hampden, son of Lieut.-Col. Arthur Fanshawe Hoare CB VD, asst master Haileybury Coll., and Gertrude Jane Katherine, d. of Rev. James Samuel Hoare, Rector of Godstone, Surrey; b. 11 Aug. 1906; adm. Sept. 1920 (KS); left July 1925; Trin. Coll. Camb., matric. 1925, BA 1928; asst man. De Havilland Aircraft Co. (Indian branch); Capt. BOAC; PO RAFRO Mar. 1927, FO Sept. 1928; killed in action over France 23 May 1940.

John Mathew Hampden “Sam” Hoare was born at Haileybury School, Hertfordshire on the 11th of August 1906 the fourth and youngest son of Lieutenant Colonel Arthur Fanshawe Hoare CB VD, an assistant master at Haileybury College, and Gertrude Jane Katherine (nee Hoare) Hoare of 5, Gerard Road, Harrow in Middlesex. He was christened at Great Amwell, Hertfordshire on the 30th of September 1906.
He was educated at the Dragon School, Oxford as a Day Boy from September 1916 to July 1920 where he was a member of the Hockey XI in 1919 and 1920. He won his colours as a member of the Rugby XV in 1919 and was a member of the 2nd Cricket XI. He won the school Mathematics Prize in 1920.
He was educated at Westminster School, where he was a King’s Scholar from September 1920 to July 1925. He was a member of the 1st Rowing VIII, where he rowed at No. 5, in 1924 and 1925. The Elizabethan wrote the following on his 1924 season: - “Is handicapped in a light eight by the slowness of his movements. An aptitude for sitting at the finish and admiring the view, instead of shooting away the hands, and rocking the body up over the slide at once, was the root of all his trouble. However he had practically mastered this before the crew reached Henley, and rowed in all the races.”
He was appointed as Hon. Secretary of the Elizabethan in September 1924 and was the winner of the Pancake Greaze on Pancake Day in 1924. He was a member of the Debating Society from 1923 to 1925 and was elected to the committee of in September 1924. He was appointed as a Monitor in the same month. He served as a member of Officer Training Corps and was promoted to Company Sergeant Major in No. 2 Company in September 1924. He placed second in the school for Mathematics in his final year. He was appointed as Head School Monitor. He matriculated for Trinity College, Cambridge as a pensioner on a Westminster Exhibition on the 1st of October 1925 where he rowed for the 3rd College Boat. He read Mathematics in the first part of his Tripos and Engineering in the second part, achieving a BA in 1928. While at Trinity, he decided on a career in aviation having joined the Cambridge University Air Squadron in 1926.
He was commissioned as a Pilot Officer in the Royal Air Force Reserve of Officers on the 14th of March 1927 and was confirmed in his rank on the 14th of March 1928. He was promoted to Flying Officer on the 14th September 1928 and passed into the Royal Air Force Reserve of Officers on the 7th of September 1934.
On leaving university he was apprenticed to the De Havilland Aircraft Company for two years and, as soon as his apprenticeship ended he requested to be transferred to their Indian Branch at Karachi where he became an engineer and an assistant manager, a position he held for three and a half years. A colleague wrote of him: - “Throughout that time, apart from work, I saw much of him socially, and I never knew an unkind word pass between us. He was an ideal companion, his serene way was delightful, and his cheery laughter still rings in my ears”.
Shortly after leaving De Havilland he joined Imperial Airways where he was appointed as a First Officer in 1935 and was promoted to Captain in 1936. He was promoted to Master in 1939 and to Extra Master in 1940. He was an Associate fellow of the Royal Aeronautical Society. In 1937 he was posted to Karachi where he was placed in command of the Atlanta fleet on the Singapore service. His arrival there followed visit to Karachi by the Air Minister, Sir Samuel Hoare, (no relation) and he acquired the nick name of “Sam”. In 1938 he was transferred to Bangkok and he was sent on leave to England later that year. In February 1939 he returned to the Far East where he flew an Atlanta aircraft on a survey of the route from Rangoon to Lashio, returning to England with his report the following month. In April 1939, he was posted to European operations based at Croydon where he trained on the Whitworth Ensign aircraft and flew on European routes for the airline.
Following the outbreak of war the Ensign fleet was commandeered by the Air Ministry and he operated from airfields in the West Country to European destinations and was flying on the London to Paris route until the 22nd of May 1940.
John Hoare took off from Croydon as the pilot of Ensign G-ADSZ "Elysean" on the 23rd of May 1940 to carry supplies of food for the British Expeditionary Force to Merville in Northern France. His was one of 5 Ensigns, 1 DC3, 2 Savoias and a Dragon Rapide which made up the air convoy and they took off at between 8.40am and 9am. As they crossed the English coast at Hawkinge they were joined by a fighter escort and later crossed the French coast at Cap Gris Nez.
The aircraft landed at Merville later that morning. Having unloaded the aircraft his Ensign was strafed and destroyed on the ground by two Messerschmitt Bf109s. In order to return to England he boarded DC3 OO-AIU from E Flight, 24 Squadron which was returning to England that afternoon. The aircraft took off from Merville and was flying over Calais when it was attacked by enemy fighters and was forced to make a landing in a field at Arques. John Hoare was killed by German troops while sheltering under the fuselage of the aircraft.
The crew was: -
Captain Raymond Emile Chartier (Pilot)
Pilot Officer Peter Edward Bressey (Navigator) (POW No. 1124 Oflag 29A)
The passengers were: -
Captain John Mathew Hampden Hoare
Pilot Officer Benson Railton Metcalf Freeman (24 Squadron) (POW No. 33107 Dulag Wetzlar)
Captain Albert Lassois
Flying Officer Philip Arthur De Gleichen Tettenborn
Pilot Officer Peter Bressey later wrote the following detailed report of the events of those two days and of the death of John Hoare: -
“This officer was pilot of an Ensign aircraft which was part of an aerial convoy, loaded with food for the B.E.F., sent from Croydon to Merville, France, on the morning of the 23rd of May 1940. The aircraft took off about 9am, picked up a fighter escort at Hawkinge, and (owing to a last minute change in instructions received only by the leading aircraft) crossed the Belgian coast at Gravelines, and approached Merville from the north, instead of flying the more direct route which would have taken the convoy too near to Calais. On arrival, Merville aerodrome was found to be utterly deserted, the perimeter littered with derelict Hurricanes. The Douglas aircraft carrying the RAF officer detailed to take command of the ground party at Merville had, at the last moment, failed to take off from Croydon owing to engine trouble. A “council of war” of the captains of the aircraft (both English and Belgian) and the RAF liaison officers from the Belgian aircraft was held, at which it was finally decided that aircrews should unload their own aircraft and the return to Croydon be made with all possible speed. Manhandling some 2 tons of bulky stores, stowed in between the seats of a passenger aircraft, is quite a lengthy proceeding. The job was about half done, when our fighter escort, which had meanwhile been cruising overhead at about 15,000 feet, became engaged in a dog fight with enemy fighters, in the course of which they drifted from our field of vision, and incidentally, were never seen again. The unloading meanwhile continued at considerably increased speed. A final council of war was held, to decide whether to await the problematical return of our fighter escort, or to attempt the return to England unescorted at low level (no parachutes were carried). The meeting was brought to a sudden close by the appearance at the far end of the drome of two Me109s, which swept over the field at 50 feet with all 6 (or maybe 8) machine guns firing. From the dubious safety of the nearest ditch we watched them put an incendiary bullet through the starboard wing tank of Captain Hoare’s Ensign, to start a most expensive looking bonfire. They did two runs over the drome and departed as suddenly as they had come. It was a somewhat shaken council of war that reassembled briefly and unanimously decided to evacuate all remaining serviceable aircraft without delay.
After a brief check over for bullet holes, aircraft were started up and taken off straight from their parked positions. One of the SABENA Savoia-Marchettis was found to have both petrol tanks and two oil tanks riddled by bullets, and its crew (3 Belgians and an RAF Liaison officer) elected to come home in the aircraft in which I was flying – a SABENA DC3, piloted by Captain Chartier. At the last moment before take-off, Captain Hoare and his first officer, Philip Tettenborn, were also taken on board as passengers. Owing to the slight delay occasioned by hauling these two up through the rather high door against a strong slipstream, we were the last aircraft to take off from Merville.
Once airborne, I worked out a course to take us back via Gravelines – 320 degrees, and gave this to the Belgian pilot. He however refused to fly this course and insisted on flying his own course of 300 degrees, as it was “shorter and more direct”. We therefore kept diverging from the other survivors of the convoy (who were flying approximately 320 degrees) leaving them more and more on our starboard side. Flying extremely low over fairly heavily wooded country, we had been airborne for some three or four minutes only, when we were attacked by two Me109s – I suspect the same two who had strafed us on the ground at Merville. The fighters made diving attacks from the stern, and as we were quite unarmed withheld their fire until they were very close – too close, fortunately for us, as at this range there was no effective cone of fire, and the bullets spread remarkably little. By pressing themselves against the side walls of the cabin as soon as each fighter in turn was heard approaching, the passengers were somehow able to avoid being hit, as time after time, the hail of bullets swept down the centre of the gangway of the aircraft from tail to nose. In the same way, the crew in the cockpit, sitting well out to the side, and partially protected from the rear by the radio installation and the fright cage, were also unhit, although the centre of the instrument panel and windscreen were both smashed. Unfortunately the commencement of the attacks had coincided with the beginning of a very heavily wooded area, and some four or five separate attacks were made before any clearing suitable for a forced landing could be found. At last we came to the end of the wooded country – flaps and undercarriage were lowered, (I never understood why a “belly landing” was not attempted but miraculously the hydraulics still functioned), and Captain Chartier made a magnificent 3 point landing in the midst of a stubble field.
As the fighters continued to attack us even during the landing run, the RAF officer from the Savoia’s crew –P/O Freeman – opened the cabin door as soon as the plane had come to a halt. This manoeuvre was greeted by a burst of machine gun fire from the nearest hedges, the bullets spattering into the door some 6 inches underneath Freeman’s outstretched arm. He shut the door again. The general impression seemed to be that the ground firing was due to our gallant but excitable allies, the French, who at that time had the reputation of shooting first and asking questions afterwards. Staying in the aircraft was obviously impossible – the fighters were still doing diving attacks, and it was purely a question of time before we were all shot or an incendiary bullet found one of the fuel tanks. Already one of the Belgians had a bullet through his feet and F/O Tettenborn had been gashed across the temple by a flying splinter. The door was therefore kicked open (with the same result as before), and one by one we made a sort of running dive out through the open door onto the grass below. We all lay around on the grass as flat as possible, whilst odd bullets whistled past uncomfortably close overhead (from our unknown friends in the hedge) and the fighters carried out the good work of their diving attacks, impartially spraying both the aircraft and the surrounding turf, littered as it was with extremely recumbent forms. Why everyone was not killed in beyond me.
I found myself lying next to P/O Freeman, and we decided to make a run for it to a sandpit some 60 to 80 yards away. This turned out to be about 10 feet deep, and we arrived at the bottom with considerable velocity. When we had recovered our breath, we climbed cautiously up to the top again and looked over the edge, to find ourselves and the aircraft in the centre of a wide semi-circle of advancing Germans, all with rifles at the ready.
The first thing I noticed when we rejoined the rest of the party was that Captain Lassois, the Belgian captain of the Savoia, was looking more shaken than the rest of us, and that he was still wearing his British steel helmet, which had an enormous gash in the front of the crown. He explained to me that he had been lying under the fuselage of the Douglas next to Captain Hoare. During a lull in the firing they had both raised their heads for a look around. Immediately he had felt a bullet hit his helmet, and Captain Hoare had slumped back onto his face, and was, he thought, hit in the head. I could still see Captain Hoare lying face downwards under the aircraft, and after the wounded had been attended to, I persuaded the German N.C.O. who seemed in charge, to let me go and look at Captain Hoare. A German medical orderly who accompanied us helped me to turn Captain Hoare over onto his back. He was quite unconscious, his face extremely congested, his tongue protruding, and his breath literally rattling in his throat. He was covered in blood and was altogether a most unnerving sight. The medial orderly said something in German to the N.C.O., who turned to me and said “Kaput –finish”, prodded me in the ribs with his revolver, and we went to examine the body of the Belgian pilot of the Douglas, Captain Chartier, who had tried to run away across the fields but had been shot. He was quite dead. I was immediately conducted back to the rest of the prisoners and was not allowed to go near Captain Hoare again.
The Germans who captured us were front line troops, all quite young, and once they had searched us for arms etc., treated us very well and gave our wounded every possible attention. I am quite sure that if it had been possible to do anything for Captain Hoare, he would have received the same care as our other wounded. But seeing him unconscious and in an obviously dying condition, they refused to waste any further time on him. I was very worried at having to leave Captain Hoare to die alone in this seemingly callous fashion. But an RAMC Major to whom I later described his symptoms assured me that he would have died without regaining consciousness and within less than 5 minutes of our leaving him. I subsequently learned that the name of the village outside which we force landed was Arques, near St Omer”
Three Ensigns and the Dragon Rapide managed to return to Croydon with a further Ensign crash landing at Lympe.
Sir W. Runciman, Director General of the British Overseas Airways wrote: - “We are all very proud of Capt. Hoare's fine record, and of the gallant way in which he met his end. He is indeed a great loss to us.”
The British Overseas Airways Newsletter wrote of him: - “People in many parts of the world who are interested in aviation have heard the news with deep regret. Scholar as well as pilot, and equally gifted in both spheres, Hoare was universally popular among his colleagues. His bluff and cheerful personality was known at airports from Croydon to Hong-Kong. There was another and more reticent side to his character which those who knew him best found just as lovable”
The publication, The Log, wrote: - “Sam was one of those rare personalities whose cheerful good humour and unselfish acceptance of rough and smooth are a joy and example to their fellows. He gave his life in the course of an airline pilot's duties in wartime. No medals or decorations were bestowed for his supreme sacrifice, and none was expected, for a risk which was shared by all who took part in the glorious work. But he will not be forgotten and his gallant example will inspire those who follow after.”
He is commemorated on the war memorial at Trinity College, Cambridge and on the memorial at the Dragon School.
He is buried at Arques Churchyard, Grave 8.

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